


Scars of Past and Present

by bookworm213



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of comics elements, METAL HAND KISSING, Mild Sexual Content, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Odessa - Freeform, Red Room, Scars, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4830521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm213/pseuds/bookworm213
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James knows the scar from Odessa on Natalia's hip is his work. One night he spots it as they're lying in bed together. Angst, hurt/comfort, and feels ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars of Past and Present

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't been writing much lately, but this plot bunny crawled into my head and I just had to write it! This is partly based off a gifset I saw on tumblr. Remember, I adore kudos and comments!

He knows about her scar.

She tries to avoid the topic of the past, explaining quickly and fleetingly the man who’d shot her in Odessa. How the engineer had fallen without so much as a cry, how SHIELD had proclaimed the shooter a mystery, since the slugs he had used had left no trace, since there was not even so much as a footprint where the soldier had been. But she’s careful to never mention the soldier’s name.

He knows it’s him. It has the Winter Soldier’s mark written all over it. He doesn’t remember Odessa (he doesn’t remember much of anything these days). What he does remember is a young woman, barely out of her teens, with auburn hair, clever and quick as a fox. He remembers teaching her the art of the Tovarev pistol, and the Russian glock. He remembers teaching her how to snap an opponents neck, how to blend into her surroundings, how to lie. She had been the most effective agent at the Red Room, the most worthy of the name Black Widow. He remembers her laugh, her green eyes sparkling with mischief as she planted a kiss on his lips. He remembers being dragged away from her, back to the cryostasis chamber, where everything was dark and cold cold cold.

When he was brought in, she had teased him about having a name to call him that wasn’t “the soldier” or “the American”. He had found himself shivering with delight when the name James crossed her lips, dancing musically on her tongue. And he called her Natalia, the only name he had known her by in the Red Room, one she claimed she had not used since then but didn’t seem to mind him calling her that now. “Simpler times,” she had said in explanation, a smile crossing her lips as she kissed him with the passion and intensity of the so many years stolen from them.

He’s almost surprised when they’re lying in bed together, as he’s tugging off her shorts and the lacy undergarment she’s wearing, that he sees the scar on her left hip, long faded but to him staring back as red and angry as if he’d shot her yesterday.  
He sucks in a breath through his clenched teeth, so fast that it comes out sounding like a hiss. Natalia raises her head from the pillow, eyes following his and resting on the scar. She too, sucks in a breath. “James . . .” 

“I did that.” It isn’t so much a question, but an affirmation. He squeezes his eyes shut and looks away, clenching both hands so tightly that the nails of his flesh hand threaten to break the skin.

“No you didn’t.” She sits up, moving to where he sits at the end of the bed. She puts a hand under his chin, forcing him to look at her. Her mouth is set in a hard, determined line. “HYDRA did that. Their weapon did that. You weren’t in control. It . . .it wasn’t you. It wasn’t James.”

“What’s the difference?” It comes out sounding harsh, bitter. He looks away from her again, a lump forming in his throat. “I . . .I don’t even remember what it’s like not to be a weapon.”

“The difference,” she say’s, slowly, carefully, “is that James would never hurt me.” She reaches for his metal hand, giving the smallest of smiles as she kisses the palm of it. It’s a heavy weight that she could react this way to something that’s caused so much death and destruction. But, he reminds himself, she’d only known him with the metal arm, not like the captain or anyone else from his life before he was a weapon.

“And what if . . .what if I lose control again?” His voice rises, panic growing in his chest. “What if HYDRA gets in my head again? What if I hurt you? What if . . .?” His hands are shaking, his face is agonized.

“They won’t.” Natalia’s voice is fierce, her teeth clenched. “I won’t let them. We won’t let them! Steve, Sam, everybody. We’ll keep you safe James.”

He takes a shaky breath, and without even thinking, he buries his face into her bare stomach, lips brushing her navel. He moves them down until they’re resting on her hip, on her scar. He hears her sharp intake of breath. His arms encircle her waist, moving down to her thighs.

“Do you remember what I said to you in the Room, about me being hurt?” She asks, twining her fingers through his hair.  
Without looking up, he mumbles, “you said someone who tried to kill you once and failed would never succeed.”

“Thats right.” He looks up and she’s smirking. “You’re not meant to kill me, James Buchanan Barnes. I’d be long gone if you were.” 

He huffs out something that sounds like a laugh, and he hears the tinkling of her laughter as she pulls him closer, letting him bury his face in the crook of her neck. He can feel her auburn hair tickling his temple, and as they lie there tangled in each other’s arms, something like peace settles in his chest.


End file.
